The Azulon
by AzardBrazul
Summary: Tensions between the four nations have never been higher, with Kyoshi Island destroyed only months ago by an unnamed party, the political landscape is far from calm. The Equalist movement isn't helping either. Add to this whispers that Princess Azula has arrived in Republic City. But how could she? She's been dead for almost 70 years!
1. The Prologue

**Disclaimer:**  
**All AVATAR/ATLA/LOK references, characters, events and places that you recognize are The property of Nick (Or whoever who owns them). The rest belongs to me. I make no profit of this, So please don't sue me.**

**Thanks very much for PrincessWraven for Betaing this chapter. Give her a big hand everyone!**

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The Azulon

The Prologue

She is suffocating, the pungent odor of a thousand tons of fresh earth boring down on the air surrounding her. She can hear wood creaking. Spreading out her arms, she feels the extent of her confines. Crumbling wood and splinters meet her probing. Shuddering, she places her palms right in front of her. As if under the weight of a hundred platypus-bears, the planks had been reduced to a creaking mess. Fine strands of damp earth start flowing from the places where her nails scratched the rotting wood.

She wonders how she had ended up here. All her attempts at remembering are met with hazy emptiness with oily edges. It is as if she were staring down a void in a bid for answers.

The void stares quietly back at her.

She's losing consciousness now, her lungs screaming out for air. Her hands scrabble at the rotting wood as she screams incoherent profanities, brown liquid streams down the sides of her face and she whimpers, inhaling what little air is left, along with the centuries-old dust that is now thick in the turbulent air. She draws a long raking breath and lays still, her face going limp and her limbs falling to her sides.

The wood cracks and gives way. The earth crushes and swallows her like a Leviathan deep beneath the Fire Nation waters.

Princess Azula dies alone. Buried under the earth of a century of war, and swept aside by the winds of time.

Somewhere deep in the void a reedy voice laughs. The burgeoning sound imposes itself on the emptiness of the abyss... and then becomes it.


	2. The Darkness Before Dawn

**DISCLAIMER:**  
**All AVATAR/ATLA/LOK references, characters, events and places that you recognize are The property of Nick (Or whoever who owns them). The rest belongs to me. I make no profit of this, So please don't sue me.**

**WARNING: The Chapter starts of with an intense and drawn out gangland execution with hints of abuse. While there is no gore and little blood, the psychological aspect is very intense. If you cannot deal with this kinds of topics please skip the first section of this chapter. I have also upped the rating to M to better suit the tone of the story.  
**

**ALL HAIL PrincessWraven FOR BETAING THIS. I DEMAND YOU GIVE HER OFFERINGS OF COOKIES!**

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The Azulon

Chapter 1 - The Darkness Before Dawn

_They say that Princess Azula herself haunts Republic City. Many a citizen have  
spotted her, standing alone, inside the empty wings of Air Temple Island.  
They say Firelord Zuko himself has seen her.  
_-Republic City tourism brochure

The nights are dark here in Republic City. Shadows crawl along the walls, following anyone foolish enough to venture out. Horned shadows with claws and fangs.

People have been disappearing.

They say that Republic City is a place of equality. They say that Avatar Aang and Firelord Zuko built this illustrious city while reaching for a dream. A fever dream of Equality, Tolerance, and Acceptance. How far Republic City has fallen from those humble aspirations. The statue of Avatar Aang standing solitarily on Air Temple Island stares passively into the bowels of the city every waking moment.

It does not like what it sees.

The dream has turned into a nightmare. A festering hive of gangs and murderers. A breeding ground for dissent. A thriving landscape of blackened crumbling walls and mossy corners. Avatar Aang must be having very interesting conversations up there in the spirit world. For, what parent hates their creation?

_In the Avatar we trust._

They whisper in the streets, now that Avatar Aang is dead. They call out, for an Avatar to come and rescue them. Their pathetic cawing scaring away the last pair of Raven-Crows in immediate knowledge. At night the rumor mills spin, spinning yarn upon yarn of lies to fuel the cawing. Any stranger can tell that this is not going to end well.

Rumors arrive from the south of a Water-Tribe Avatar. They say that she has eyes blue as the sea and flames as hot as hell. They wonder when she will come and save them.

The next week word arrives from the west whispering of a Fire Nation Avatar with eyes of burning fire and a rage strong enough to level Kiyoshi Island.

Five months later word has still not arrived from Kyoshi Island. The masses fear the worst. They fear what is bound to arrive at their shores. They hope it is the Water tribe Avatar that arrives first.

But until then they will have to put their trust in Republic City's own Saviors, working hard to remove the undeserving filth from the streets. They are so vigilant that even Chief Lin Beifong chases after them.

The shadows hiding in dark corners grin as they pass by.

Tonight the "Saviors" are executing their own brand of justice. A form of the most purest, gleeful, maniacal manifestation of justice that it bounces off the grimy walls as their "subject's" screams bloom like sprouting plants at the first sign of spring.

In a shadowy corner of Yang-Chen square, a group of four "Saviors" are beating a girl. She lays limp, her blood seeping onto the white concrete tiles that line the streets as they viciously kick and maul her. An upturned basket of groceries lay nearby, a cabbage rolls off into the darkness. Her blood is seeping under the carrots.

The statue of Firelord Zuko seems to frown directly at them. For a fleeting second a "savior" -Hsiao-imagines that the statue's piercing eyes are on fire. But on second inspection it stares back rigidly. The unnerved man returns to kicking the twitching form on the floor, albeit with a little less gusto.

She had turned twenty just last week.

For a moment the beating pauses and her ragged breathing envelopes the silence. Then rough breathing and short uneven screeches fill the air. She screams again only when one of them pulls out half her hair. The saying goes: "A crime in passion, is a crime forgivable." They surely never had to endure this.

After all of them are done with her, the eldest -Cheng- grabs hold of her thick mane of hair and drags her towards a nearby Sato -Mobile. The car shines in the moonlight. Its opulent paint and details glint like little stars adrift in a sea of black. Another "savior" -Teng- flicks the lock guarding the boot and pops it open, lifting it up almost above his head.

The two that are left, -Song and Hsiao- each grab a leg of the limp figure, while Cheng and Teng grab her arms. Together they haul her battered and bleeding form roughly into the boot. As they stand bending over, panting with exertion, their quarry seems to come to. One eye opens to a world of blurred and bright colors. Teng notices her as she tries and fails to move. He spits on her, hissing something in the Water-Tongue.

"Fucking disgraceful abomination."

He then roughly brings down the cover of the boot on her head, The lights she sees go out as she feels the impact even in the farthest reaches of her jaw, her grind-teeth themselves twitching.

The four "saviors" laugh out loud, doubling over and leaning on the car. Teng even thumps enthusiastically on the boot cover before jumping into the back seat. Cheng pulls the car into gear and it screeches as it takes off, barreling through the streets. They whoop and punch the air, clearly exhilarated at the prospect of ridding Republic City of another cancerous "abomination"

They laugh to each other's jokes and ask after the other's families. Hsiao and Teng even boast about the "Abomination" they had eradicated last week. It seemed that this one was it's partner. The chatter and smiles die down as they leave the Republic City gates behind. The car fills with tense excitement as they close in on the kill.

They stop on top of a tall hill overlooking a rare cluster of trees which looked surprisingly similar to Omashu park.

Cheng gets out first, almost skipping in anticipation he goes round to the back, Teng, meets him there and pops the trunk. Together they haul the girl out. Song kicks her to check whether she's still alive. She screams.

Hsiao grabs the small plank laying under the backseat. It is an ordinary enough plank, thin and long with a solitary nail poking out of the other end. He also grabs the bottle of alcohol under the driver's seat. His belly wobbles as he waddles his way to the group.

The girl is kneeling at the edge, her slight cracked voice begging Teng. Her hands are clasped together in a pleading gesture and she is sobbing, her tears mixing with her blood as they flow down her cheeks. Hsiao passes the bottle of alcohol to Song and takes his place beside him, behind the girl. She sobs and looks up at Teng. He sneers.

"No mercy for the likes of you."

Hsiao takes that as his cue and raises the plank above his head. Before the girl can reply he swings it at her. It thwacks onto the back of her head and refuses to move, the nail lodged deep inside her brain, beyond her skull.

She instantly goes limp. Hsiao roughly heaves it off and hits her with it again even as Song empties the bottle on her tattered clothes. Cheng extends an arm to stay Hsiao before he can go a third time. Teng pulls out a box of matches from inside the black coat he always wears and lights a match.

"Goodbye, sister" he whispers before setting her ablaze

Cheng puts his boot on the blazing mass and kicks it off the edge. They watch as she rolls down the hill like a will-o-the-wisp and soon is lost among the trees. They slap high fives and exchange congratulations before Screeching off into the night.

How _very far_ our Republic City has come.

*-~...~-*

Sitting cross legged in her clearing, Azula waits. She waits for the opportunity that _HE_ promised, so long ago when he used to sit and hold vigil with her. Behind her, a jagged outcropping of rock gives way to an awfully tall hill. The autumn trees around her sprinkle her vision with a slow rain of yellowish-orange leaves.

Azula breathes in, thin blue wisps escape from the edges of her incorporeal body, almost as if a blue flame is consuming her, tongues of cerulean flame licking the air. She exhales, her eyelids remaining shut, a blue tinge to her eyeliner. Behind her the sun is setting.

Azula feels lonely.

Not that she's never felt it before, but the gnawing sensation bites at the oily edges of her soul like a rabid pack of Rabbit-Wolves. She feels it now more than ever before, in this strange land of After _and_ Before.

Azula sighs.

Somehow she knows that he is standing behind her even before his arm comes to rest on the jagged shoulder of her Royal Regalia. She stiffens ever so slightly and a grin crawls its way onto his withered lips at her reaction. She can almost feel his flowing white hair on the small of her neck.

"It is nearly time, my child."

It is a wonder how he can make it sound like both an ominous command and a caring statement at the same time. Azula can't help but feel a bit impressed.

A shiver crawls down her spine.

"It has been time for a long time now." She still refuses to use familial titles with him. It still feels as if she's betraying someone. It's ironic, since her whole life has hinged on betrayal

His smile curves to almost Cheshire-like quantities .

"You know, Azula, you are so very similar to a certain Air Nomad I might know."

Azula stiffens.

"Lies!" She whispers bitterly, knowing that it wouldn't change anything.

He chuckles.

"Stand up Azula, and play the hand you've been dealt, whatever it may be, play it proudly."

She feels a twinge of anger at that, Who does he think he is? Bossing the prodigal princess Azula of the Fire Nation? The Conqueror of Ba-Sing Se?

"... Someone a bit more wiser?" The mocking tones are obvious.

She whirls around in a fit of fury, wisps of blue substance whipping into the air and dissolving into nothingness.

"You know _NOTHING._" She hisses.

The old man chuckles, pressing an index finger to the center of her temple, while staring back at her mask of tranquil fury.

"I know _EVERYTHING_." He hisses back. "And don't you, _EVER, _forget it." With that he pushes his index finger inside her head.

Excruciating pain envelopes her. Screaming, she falls down in a writhing mess. She thrashes around, the burning pain eating away at what little of her identity that she can clutch as they start enveloping her very being.

*-~...~-*

Images flash in front of her eyes. Whirling like a furious tornado, with her caught helplessly in the eye of the storm. Images.. Memories from a bygone age, a time where everything was much more simpler.

She stares down a little boy, sitting on a huge bed. His eyes are wide with fear, she wonders who he is even as she hears herself talking.

_"Dad's going to kill you..." _did she really use to lilt like that?_ "Really, he is."_

The boy jumps out of bed even as memory whirls again.

She's standing on a metal ship, her hands arcing in semi-circular motions as sparks of blue lightning cackle from her palms. she never noticed how beautiful the setting sun looked before.

Memory whirls again.

The first thing she notices is that two of her fingers are smoking. Then she notices that she is in some sort of cave filled with green crystals, a smoking body is falling from far above.

The change this time is jarring.

She is in a shadowy room, laying on a bed, _HER_ bed. Some boy is yelling at her from the door.

_"Why did you tell father that I was the one who killed the Avatar?"  
"Can't this wait till morning?"_ she's slightly annoyed now, she can feel it.  
_"It can't"_ The boy bites out, almost hissing.

This time she almost yells out when the memory changes, she wants to know who really killed the Avatar. And who was that boy?

She is sitting in front of a bonfire, The embers crackling as it dies down, glittering gold wisps flying everywhere. She can hear the lulling sound of waves crashing on a shore nearby.

_"My own mother thought I was a monster... She was right of course, but it still hurt!"_

That last one stuck with her as she was at last spun adrift from the center of the storm. She had seemed so forlorn when it had occurred.

**Jia-Lin** could not, for the life of her, know what was happening to her, she knew only two things with any certainty, That the Burning blue flames were slowly dissolving her, and that these memories were _NOT_ hers.

*-~...~-*

Somewhere in the great sea between the South Pole and the Earth Kingdom lands, a steamer was cutting its path steadily towards Republic City. Hidden in its cargo deck, Avatar Korra reclined on her Polar Bear dog. A soft smile gracing her lips as she slowly fell asleep rubbing the rough fur that she laid on.

That night she dreams of all the grand adventures she would have in the Republic City.

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**AN: So First Chapter down :D**

Leave a Review ;)  



	3. An Ember Is Lit

**DISCLAIMER:**  
**All AVATAR/ATLA/LOK references, characters, events and places that you recognize are The property of Nick (Or whoever who owns them). The rest belongs to me. I make no profit of this, So please don't sue me.**

**Thanks SO MUCH! for my valiant beta PrincessWraven for going through this.**

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The Azulon

Chapter 2 - An Ember Is Lit

_A rising fire, a fire that is out of control, is a mindless fire. It consumes and condemns without care or justification. That is why it is good practice to use both hands when learning to contain a fire before bending it, lest it escapes. Remember that we are not invincible, even we who were born in fire can get burned if a fire rises too far, too fast.  
_-excerpt from 'Fire Bending for Toddlers Vol 1.' By Fire Sage Jeong Jeong

The Old Man's eyes open to the Equalist poster he'd pasted on his ceiling last night. He does not remember why he'd pasted it there. Maybe he'd thought if he stared at Amon's mask every time he went to bed, he'd get over his indecision. It hadn't worked so far, though he supposed that not even Amon was capable of working miracles.

He was in a relatively high position in the Equalist movement, and it is very unhealthy to doubt the leader.

But just last month, almost immediately after his handler -Samhak- had promoted him from his desk duty to public speakers protection, his sister had dropped a bomb on him.

He'd never been able to have a child: his wife had been unable to conceive with him. She'd left not long after. He'd only been able to unleash his fatherly tendencies on Gao, his nephew, whom he adored so much. He'd cared for the boy, taught the boy what meager things he knew and practically raised the boy at his home even though he'd lived across the street. He loved the boy to bits.

So it had come as a shock when his dear sister, who at the time had been bursting with joy, had informed him that her son had revealed himself as a late blooming bender. His sister had found out after seeing the boy chuck pebbles in puddle of rainwater _without touching them_. The Old Man had seen his nephew only once after that, and that had been to say good bye last week, when his sister finally got that job in Ba-sing-se that she'd always wanted.

Some nights he wonders what his sister would say if she knew... everything.

He'd stood there, on a makeshift quay that had been constructed five years ago with rickety wooden planks, staring at Gao. His nephew had stared back at him, the Old Man had hugged him then, and he'd felt no different, now that the Old Man knew that he was a bender. And then he was gone.

The Old Man didn't know if he would ever see him again: he supposed that he wouldn't. But that did not however, change the fact that a tiny seed of doubt had been planted in the old man's mind.

He groaned as he got out of bed.

And as he got ready for work, his nephew's smiling face was burnt into the back of his mind

What would Gao think of him if he ever found out what he does for a living?

*-~...~-*

She's only slightly aware of the growing moistness. Droplets of something were pattering onto her body, pooling on her closed eyelids. Azula groans, her naturally heated body resenting the moistness. Torrents of rain soak deep into her long hair.

Her eyes snap open.

Since when has she had long hair?, she wonders.  
Then she notices the mud.

"Ugh!"

Azula pushes off the wet earth too fast, her feet slip and she falls flat on her back. She curses Agni, and then asks him what she's ever done to him for her to deserve this, for her to fall so low as to waddle around in mud like a common rooster-pig. She tries to sit up, but her tired limbs scream in agony, she herself is at the brink of exhaustion. So she closes her eyes and lays back. Azula is tired.

In time the Rain dies down, but not before washing her clean.

*-~...~-*

Korra couldn't speak, the sight was so mesmerizing.

Before her stretched Piandao bridge in all its rusty glory, above it two Police zeppelins roared, flags and Metal Police banners waving idly, cutting through the sky and eclipsing the sun for a bare moment. Korra was sure that the zeppelins must be teeming with metalbenders, ready to jump in and save the day at a moment's notice. She felt a little safer already.

Then she looked to the left.

Avatar Aang stood, on a tiny island in the middle of the bay, solemnly holding an Air Nomad staff, his left foot sitting on an open lotus. She gasped, she'd been told that it was huge, but never did she think of anything like this! Grinning wide, she looked down at Naga.

"Air Temple Island! That's where Tenzin lives!" She bends down and scratches Naga's neck "You ready for a little swim girl?"But Naga has plans of her own. She bolts in the opposite direction, Korra laughing hysterically on her back.

"Okay! OKAY! Food first, then air temple!"

*-~...~-*

"Are you tired of living under the tyranny of benders? Then join the Equalists! For too long the bending elite of this cit..." The Old Man stopped listening when the speaker he was assigned to guard started his shouting. The Old Man's ears hurt already.

The new boy, Hsiao waddles up to him and tells him to go have his lunch. Pfft, youngsters these days, no respect for their elders. With great restraint the Old Man refrains from punching him.

Instead he decides to have his lunch at Omashu park. It would be good to get away from some of the noise and tension of the city, at least for a short while.

*-~...~-*

Jia-Lin does not know where she is when she wakes up. She does know that every inch of her body hurt like it was beat to an inch of life, and that she was wet, dirty and naked.

Her eyes snap open at that, and she scrambles to a sitting position, scrabbling away at the mud, she stands. The left side of her face feels warm, and rough and itchy.

She tries not to scratch.

Then the memories come back to her, the ones that her mind was trying so hard to stamp down. The recent ones come first, the one's with her brother, what was his name... Teng, thats right! Teng Louong. The ones with him and his friends burn into the backs of her eyes. She falls to her knees when the_ Other _ones start, the ones belonging to _Her. _She screams when she remembers dying for the first time, She screams again when she remembers dying again, the pain squeezing like a vice over her heart.

The very rock itself comes alive at the sound of her voice, flying to her, covering her in a cocoon of warm, dry comfort.

Then the fires start.

She doesn't stop screaming.

*-~...~-*

Korra is sharing a fish with a Hobo that lived in a bush. She's too surprised to comment, so she does the logical thing and handed him one of her fried fish sticks. He sits down and they, both of them, munch in silence. Naga jumps into the small lake in front of her and desperately searches for more fish. Korra laughs when Naga intentionally splashes her.

"Man, I love Omashu park already!" she whispers as she turns around and stares at the looming city walls. "Sure, sure" the hobo acknowledges.

Then Korra hears the screams

In a minute she's tensed and in action, years of Avatar training kicking in. She whistles and Naga barrels out of the lake. Swiftly, Korra blows a downward jet of fire as she jumps, and lands squarely on Naga's back. They thunder off towards the sound.

*-~...~-*

As the memories crash down on her, Princess Azula of the Fire Nation burns ever brighter.

*-~...~-*

As Naga barrels down the small hill, Korra spies a small grove almost concealed by tall willows. Something was moving inside. Roughly pulling Naga's reins, she jumps off, her hands ready to blast off anybody she thought was threatening and sprints into the grove.

Inside she finds the source of the screams and stands, stunned for a moment

A rock covered form -a woman, judging by the voice- was flailing its hands and stumbling around, repeatedly falling to its knees. It was also on fire.

Korra snaps into action, drawing all the water she had in her pouch, and tries to douse the fire. She whips the water onto the crevices in between the chunks of rock, she hopes that it will be enough to douse the flames.

It isn't.

The woman screams even louder, her voice sounds ragged and torn. Korra snaps her hands to her sides and raises them, trying to pull the rocks off the flaming body, but even at her level of power, it is a challenge. They hardly budge.

With a drawn out grunt, Korra pulls her hands back in an arcing motion, her fingers straining, and the rocks fly off, directly at her.

"Damn!"

She ducks and the pieces of rock fly overhead. Somebody screams behind her. She doesn't even spare a glance backwards.

The flaming woman had fallen to the ground, where she lay whimpering, her hands clutching at the loose dirt, fingers burrowing into the mud all the while as blue flames licked at her skin.

With her hands splayed, Korra draws out every drop of water she can reach and spins it into a giant bubble just over her raised hands. As the bubble grows, she gently lowers it onto fallen form.

A thousand snakes hiss as the flames are doused, water enveloping and flowing freely over the trembling body as it finally grows still.

Exhausted, Korra falls to her knees.

*-~...~-*

The Old man walks into the sacred clearing, a carefully folded cloth sack clutched firmly in his left arm, with his right hand resting on it for protectiveness's sake.

The cloth sack drops to the ground at what he sees.

A water bender stood over a prone form dressed in blue cloth. Her arms were raised, a huge globe of water above her. With a sinking feeling he realized what was going to come next.

"NO!" He shouts throwing his hands in front of himself, as if to shield himself. "Don't!"

The bender takes no heed, she brings her hands down roughly. The water globe breaks as it comes to contact with the blue clad body. And for a heart-stopping moment the figure is inside it, drowning.

Then the globe shatters and the water splashes everywhere. And the bender, her crime finally complete, slumps to her knees.

The Old Man is livid.

"Murderer!" he shouts, his rough voice cracking. "You worthless MURDERER!"

The bender spins around, on her feet in a moment, her eyes are wide, like a deer caught in the headlights. She tries to splutter something but The Old Man will have none of it. Striding up to her, he roughly pushes her aside and falls to his knees in front of the prone form.

"You've killed her." His voice carries in the silent clearing. He runs his hand through the fallen girl's hair and twists her head. He gasps at what he sees. "Did you do this too?" he growls, looking up directly into the benders eyes. He's sure she can see the hatred in his eyes all too clearly. "Answer me!"

People are slowly trickling into the clearing, staring at them, they form a circle that no one intrudes. But everyone is whispering.

"Poor girl!"

"What happened?"

"Why is that man yelling?"

"Is she a bender?"

"Oh my god! Did she kill that other girl?"

"ANSWER ME!"

The bender stops stuttering as The Old Man shouts. Her eyes shift as she frowns. Roughly she pushes The Old Man away. He stumbles, slips on the mud and falls. "Now look here! I'm the Avatar! I didn't try to kill her! I was trying to save her!"

The Old Man groans as he sits up. He appears to have not heard her, none of them seem to have.

"This bitch just drowned that poor girl! Are you going to stand for this anymore? People of Republic city, let us avenge our sister! BRING THIS CRETIN TO JUSTICE!"

*-~...~-*

The silence after The Old Man's words is deafening. Korra can feel the hairs on her back rising. She notices the hard look everyone is wearing, and then she notices the circle shrinking. The old man grabs her and then all of them they pounce. They scratch, punch, pull and kick at her. She is powerless, she cannot attack civilians, finally having someone to blame for their problems. soon she is pushed down and, all she can see is feet, and all she can feel is pain.

Red flames bloom from Korra's hands as she begins to bleed.

*-~...~-*

Korra always said that Naga had a one track mind.

As she ploughs into the lynch mob she sure was glad that was the case at least sometimes. Growling she crashes into the center. She is mildly aware of people screaming as she crashes into them. When she sees Korra, beaten and broken, she howls in rage. She immediately latches onto a flailing hand and bites down hard, severing it at the elbow. Bright garnet splashes onto her snowy fur as she fights almost rabidly for her master.

Circling Korra she bites and scratches at anyone that comes near.

Then the world erupts is a haze of cerulean.

*-~...~-*

**WHEW! Second chapter done! the only reason this took a long time is that I am completely bollocks at writing action (And it shows) I honestly prefer to write silent, contemplative or angsty scenes. But ATLA stories have to have their action. Sigh. Leave a review and tell me what you think.**


	4. An Unkindness of Ravens (Part I of IV)

**DISCLAIMER:**  
**All AVATAR/ATLA/LOK references, characters, events and places that you recognize are The property of Nick (Or whoever who owns them). The rest belongs to me. I make no profit of this, So please don't sue me.**

**Thanks SO MUCH! for my beta PrincessWraven for Being AWESOME and betaing this as quickly as possible.  
**

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The Azulon

Chapter 3 - An Unkindness of Ravens (Part I of IV)

_In one of the darkest corners of the world, they say that there is an immense and eternal library, containing all knowledge that has, is, and will exist. This library is open to no-one save one. A solitary man, who sits behind an oak table furnished with one lamp, is hidden amidst the infinite rows of the library. He scrabbles furtively on pages of parchment that he then scatters on the floor, because he's run out of space on the table. No one knows who he is, or how he came to be there. But everybody knows what he does. He searches, for what only he knows, but in the darkness he searches._

_The stories say that to this day the man searches, and his search will not end soon._

-Excerpt from Earth Kingdom cautionary tale

Deep within the Obsidian Caldera, in a vast hall with no windows, lies the Iron Throne. A square block of iron fashioned into a throne. Flames of red and gold flicker and dance around it, providing the hall with its only source of light, but that is enough. Embers, spit out of the flames, glitter like midnight fireflies as they coast almost the length of the hall, before winking out like dying stars.

It has sat here since the Fire Nation was born. Some say that it has resided here from far earlier than that.

While the flames provide illumination to the hall, they also provide a dual service; they cloak the throne in shadow, thus hiding anyone seated on it, save for two fiery yellow-gold orbs.

In front of the throne sits a long, low table, where the lords and ladies, all dressed up, gather to play at war. They are clothed in various levels of apparel, some wearing the standard layered armor, some in exquisitely embroidered dresses or robes and some (nearer the far end, closer to the dark) even have the audacity to wear simple garments like drawstring trousers and shirts! But all of them are dressed only in varying shades of red and gold. The Firelord appreciates respect, and appreciation garners favor, and favor, in the Court of Embers is worth more than all the gold in the land put together.

A single man stands facing the throne, his seat lying almost halfway down the table. He is garbed in the traditional layered armor of the Fire Navy. The curved shoulders, though not the jagged ones of royalty, designate him as a man of status. He is trembling.

"Am I to believe..." A woman's voice snakes out of the darkness that veils the throne. It's tone seems sharp and edged, but calm nevertheless. The storm was very, very near. "...that the situation in Republic City has not yet been contained?"

A slender hand adorned with nails that could be mistaken for claws extends outward, clutching a flickering, ambitious flame like a starving condor-raven would it's last meal.

A wave of whispers pass down the length of the table, most of them followed by a cringe. This is not a good sign. The man standing swallows. His hands lie shivering by his sides, palms slick with sweat. Beads of perspiration gather on his temple, some sliding down the back of his neck, and the hairs on his nape rise. He swallows again.

When he speaks, his lips twitch.

"My Lord...I beg your forgiveness, I am but your humble servant...but Lin Beifong has not been facilitating active communication between our great nation and Republic City. That woman is the cause of..."

"SILENCE!"

For a few moments, the shout bounces off the walls, echoing the word until it becomes a cascading cacophony that consumes the room. Everybody's heads snap back to stare at the throne, some throwing pitying glances at the man who stood.

For a long moment, nobody speaks, nobody dares move. The man barely holds back a whimper, as his head bows and his face wrinkles with worry.

After a few moments (surely, it had been only a few moments? They certainly felt like years), the clawed hand lifts, slow, yet precise. It comes to rest only when its fiery captive is directly in line with its owners eyes. They seem to flame, in the darkness, and the man could swear that he saw wisps of smoke drifting upwards, but that couldn't be true... could it? No, it must be a trick of the eye.

The flames surrounding the throne rise, casting long shadows on the far wall. The shadows dance and crawl and prowl all in an impenetrable haze of chaos, almost as if midsummer's solstice had come early. Then the hand clenches into a fist and the room is plunged into darkness. The fires that billowed moments earlier were reduced to winking embers.

The smell of fear is almost palpable.

"Are you telling me, General Han, that our great army, our spies, the best, have failed to contain a bunch of low-lying peasants? The great Fire Nation army brought to its knees by a group of measly _nonbenders_?"

Her voice is still calm, though it feels strained, like someone dangling from the cusp of a volcano, fighting to pull herself back up.

"My Lord...A thousand apologies..."

The golden orbs turn into slits in the darkness, and the man -General Han- abruptly stops short.

The figure on the throne draws a long breath and the embers kindle with it; slow small plumes of fire bloom from them. Spluttering and winking, they grow until they are taller than the throne itself, the intricate engravings on the Iron Throne cast into a red-gold pall. The figure sitting on it is clothed in a heavy but exquisitely detailed set of robes. She sits straight, with her hands in fists, tense, quite like a saber-toothed moose-lioness just before the pounce.

Firelord Midori in all her bitter glory.

The scowl that adorns her otherwise handsome features is aimed directly at General Han. When she speaks next, her voice escapes in a low growl that seems amplified by the hiss and cackle of the inferno surrounding her. It seems to bubble with the flames and grow louder with every word.

"You will turn around, with your little incompetent tail between your legs, and you will go find my son, Iroh, you should find him within the walls of Ba-Sing-Se. You will tell him that the Firelord has stripped your useless hide of your position, and given it to him. Tell him to gather a small fleet and the Southern Raiders. Then, tell him that the Firelord commands him to set sail for Republic City _immediately_ and offer his services and all resources he is in possession of to Lin Beifong and eradicate this farce once and for all. You will do this OR I _WILL_ HAVE YOUR HEAD!"

She roars out the latter, standing encased within flames that now tower far above her, a feral look in her eyes. The Obsidian court seems to undulate; a wave of ashen faces and hurried whispers move through the gathered nobles and officers. The seriousness of the Firelord's threats crash on them like an errant tsunami. The man, Han, almost falls over himself several times as he scrambles toward the huge double doors on the far side of the court. It almost seems as if he flew, like an airbender on a glider, and when the double doors crash closed behind him, no one seems surprised. It is most appropriate.

Airbenders dodge and evade. Firebenders attack and pillage. It is the natural order of things.

What was unnatural is that the Firelord insists on keeping the peace and guarding the lesser colonies and nations, holding on to an idealistic vision just like her predecessor, her father. It does not help that she was considered the most dangerous bender alive... well, maybe excepting her bastard daughter, who the rumors say lives in the southern Water Tribe. The absurdity of it, a firebender -a heir to the throne, nonetheless- living with those savages!

Slowly, everyone turns their shocked faces to stare at the Firelord, who has now slumped back into the throne. She looks drained, as if a great tiredness had befallen her, and she sighs as the flames encasing the throne dwindle to a more manageable height.

"We are of the Fire Nation, us of great power..." her voice sounds hoarse and soft, as if the words are coming from across a great distance. "We must not forget the power in favors. Helping Republic City today means support from the United Republic tomorrow, and everybody knows how valuable Republic City truly is."

Everybody knows that. From the lowliest pauper to the eldest, wisest noble, they all know what the Firelord means, they all see the wisdom in her words...

"Whomever holds Republic City, holds the world"

*-~...~-*

Jia-Lin moans, sleep caressing the shadowy recesses of her consciousness. Pulling the warm sheets tighter around her bony body, she burrows her head deeper into the loving embrace of her pillow, her hands fisting the turtleduck feather mattress. Sighing contentedly, she settles back into a blissful slumber.

*-~...~-*

Azula's body twitches, tensing against the unfamiliar and uncomfortable mattress as she comes to. Eyes opening slowly, she lies on the bed, ramrod straight and as stiff as a plank of hardwood, staring at an unfamiliar ceiling of brown rafters and tiles. Slowly, almost mechanically, she sits up and surveys her surroundings. Her eyes flash in the meager sunlight which flows through the solitary window that the room possesses.

What strikes her first is the once pretty, cream-colored wallpaper that is now faded and peeling, and the musty smell of disuse. She is in what seems like a small bedroom. The sheets that she is covered tightly in are of a specific shade of burnt orange that she knows she ought to remember, but struggles to recall from _where_. Without making a noise, save for a slight rustle of the sheets, Azula moves to the edge of the bed. Her feet land on a yellow rug when she places them down. Azula idly wonders what manner of creature has _yellow _fur as she looks around.

Aside from the dresser that stands against the wall to her left, the room seems to be empty. It shows signs of having been recently cleaned, even though it still smells dusty. She surveys the dresser (and decides that it has to be the most obnoxious dresser that she ever had the unfortunate privilege of laying eyes on); it is huge and brown and even has those stupid, oversized lion paws that all earth kingdom furniture seemed to have.

Earth Kingdom.

Azula shoots off the bed faster than a starving lemur, her heart hammering like a thousand stampeding Komodo-Rhinos. What is she doing in the Earth kingdom? Why is she not in prison? Had someone kidnapped her? Impossible! Security there was a top priority for Zuko. The last things she could tangibly remember are being wrapped tightly in a straightjacket, lying with her back against a grimy wall, staring at the solitary lantern flickering innocently beyond an ominous iron door...

But no, that isn't it, that couldn't be true... She remembers fragments, splinters of destroyed memories that now float just outside of her consciousness...

She remembers suffocating, a thick coil twisting round her burning lungs as it dragged her into oblivion. She remembers the smell, the smell of death that permeated the very air that she breathed. She remembers calloused hands dragging her along, and then pushing her roughly into the ground. She remembers hitting her head, though she did not remember where. She remembers laughing, screaming and sobbing uncontrollably as the stench of burning flesh filled her lungs.

But most of all, she remembers the weight of a thousand Fire Navy ships pressing down upon her.

Azula breathes in, dragging a ragged breath. She couldn't afford to lose her composure like this, she needs herself calm; enemies could be anywhere, everyone here is most probably an enemy. She might even need lightening, and she _needs_ herself to be calm for that. Breathing in deeply again, Azula reduces her heart rate back to normal before exhaling.

Suddenly, she feels cold, a chill wind wafting against her back. She moves to adjust her armor but her palms only meet a smooth expanse of skin. Looking down at herself, she finds that she is indeed naked, save for a few turns of hastily wrapped binds in an attempt to spare her modesty. Feeling cold again, Azula's hands automatically grip her shoulders.

She must think this situation through, she _must _have a calculated plan of escape. But first, she needs clothes. What should she do for that? What could she do? Ah...the dresser!

Striding over to it, Azula grasps the intricately patterned handles and wrenches it open.

Then she stares.

In the dresser hangs one set of those annoying yellow orange robes that the Avatar wears, only these seem adapted for female use. Air Acolyte robes, they have to be. With tentative motions Azula unhooks them and pulls them out. She lets one end fall, effectively unfolding them. They seem her size...

At once, her mind starts racing.

Air Nomad robes could mean only one thing: The Avatar. He must be near!

But what would that short busybody do with these? These distinctly female ones? Even his effeminateness should have limits!

No. No. NO. That couldn't be it...that couldn't...had he spawned, then? Got himself a brood of airbenders just as obnoxious as him? No, that couldn't be it either. He couldn't have had that much time. Surely, her time at the facility was only for a couple of years? Surely, he was too young for that? Even that water tribe peasant couldn't be that depraved!

But then what? Did he expand? Induct homeless peasants from all the other nations to create a bastardized version of his own? Yes! That should be it!

But then, what is an Earth Kingdom dresser doing here?

Azula assumed that 'here' is an Air Temple, one of the four that those nomadic louts had used. No matter, no matter, she will cross that bridge when she arrives at it. Right now, she needs to get the best tactical advantage possible, and that means blending in.

She pulls the yellow drawstring pants roughly over her wraps, which she tightened. Then, the loose yellow shirt and finally, the burnt orange robe. All the while, she is biting down a grimace of disgust. She knows they were meant for utility and practicality, but _why in Agni's name did they have to be so plain?_ Drawing out a pair of hard soled slacks that are lying idly at the bottom of the dresser, she closes it, snapping the doors shut as softly as she could. She forces herself not to sneeze as she sits on the bed and draws the repulsive, dusty shoes on.

Sitting there for a while, she sighs and gazes again at the rafters. Dust motes drift like winking stars in the pale orange light the window allowed; it has to be either dawn or dusk, both good times to escape. For a moment, Azula wishes she was at home, safe and comfortable in her bed...but she stamps that wish down. She was forced to give up that life long ago. And anyway, she couldn't remember whether her bed _was_ soft... she supposed it was.

Standing up with a sigh, she turns around to face the window. Yes, she was right. The sun is rising, far, over the horizon.

_'Firebenders rise with the sun,' _a reedy voice whispers. But Azula does not hear it, nor does she see the shadow that, for the span of a moment, falls beside the window.

She takes a moment to bask in its rays, feeling her natural energy rise with the sun. Azula smiles.

The window itself is unimpressive and very common, not the opulent affair that she is used to. It is but a small square opening measuring roughly two feet diagonally, lined with wood on which was carved what she supposed are murals of air history. To her greatest relief, it doesn't have any bars! (She does _not_ have enough energy to deal with bars.) Her smile widens.

Through the window are several pagoda roofs, tiers lining up to make an easy route to the red cement-tiled ground. Their red tiles and gold lining on the edge seem to flame in the orange light. It almost feels like home.

A few feet further, the cement-tiled ground transforms into an impromptu dock, outfitted with a small quay, a few rowboats tied to the posts, and ending with the sea. The twinkling, shimmering expanse of water winks mockingly at her. Azula draws in a long breath.

Well, that was it, then. That explains the Earth Kingdom furniture.

The little Avatar built more temples, this one presumably on an island not far from the Earth Kingdom.

An Island means ships, and ships mean trade routes and that spells routes of escape to the Earth Kingdom. And escaping to the Earth Kingdom means freedom and anonymity for Azula. Freedom and time for her to plan her next move. The smile curves into a grin.

The slight breeze rustling her robes, Princess Azula braces one, then both of her feet onto the windowsill, pushing herself into the small space of the window. She considers the rooftop in front of her, gauging the distance.

Satisfied, she jumps.

*-~...~-*

Zuko does not like to wait, he never liked to wait, and old age did not help his patience in any way. So now, when this obstinate woman makes him wait, he feels like burning something.

He settles for huffing loudly and directing one of his most seething glares at her.

They are seated on two benches that were dragged out onto the foredeck on Zuko's request. They are both dressed in heavy, hooded burgundy wool robes that they pulled tight around themselves. They _are_ in sub zero temperatures, after all.

Flakes of snow flutter down from the heavens in flurries, almost as if the sky's frozen tears are falling, and Zuko hoped Tui and La aren't trying to freeze him to death for the small part he played in the Siege of the North all those long years ago. He tells that to himself every time he comes to this frigid place. But even he can't deny its beauty, with its white shores, monstrous icebergs and arctic forests. Even the skies are breathtaking.

Looking up at the heavens, Zuko feels his breath leave him yet again. Green and blue fire dance in the skies, swaying like dancing mongoose-snakes that the tamers sometimes show off at carnivals and celebrations. They sear through the sky and paint a heartbreaking picture of love, despair and war...Zuko realizes that they are painting his life before him.

Sokka called them the Auroras, the flames of La.

Sokka also said that when the flames turn completely red, change occurs. Monumental change that redirects the flow of history.

Zuko privately agrees, having observed the red flames shortly before Sozin's Comet.

Shivering slightly, he looks back at the woman, who is now staring at him contemplatively.

"What?" He croaks, suddenly self conscious. The woman laughs.

Oh, how his wife loves to agitate him.

"Nothing, Zuko, it's just that you stopped arguing suddenly and started staring at the sky with your jaw hanging open. I was worried, that's all."

Her voice is oozing with sarcasm. She is good.

"Mai, I really do _not _understand why you won't let me go ahead in my war balloon. You know that Ooruk won't be offended!"

Mai scoffs, adjusting her hairdo before pulling her woolen hood up and looking Zuko in the eyes.

"For Agni's sake, Zuko, anybody would think you were a toddler, not the "sage and reverent ex-firelord" that you're supposed to be." Her hands are expertly miming air quotes. "Besides, we're almost there, so suck it up and act your age; you'll see your granddaughter soon enough!"

Mai, for her part, certainly enjoys these rare opportunities she gets to put her husband, 'the greatest firelord ever' (as Toph used to say), in his place. The wonders motherhood has done in cheering her up.

She is almost smiling.

"You know, Zuko, I want to see Ooruk and Temari too, but you don't see me scampering off to my warships like some undignified five year old, do you?"

Zuko snorts, huffing and blowing at his hair in a manner that he knows his wife hates and insists is very unbecoming of him.

"Besides, the way you're acting, it's like you've not seen her for years! Didn't you visit her last month? I really don't know _HOW_ you can bear coming to this Agni forsaken place over and over and over again, just to see that girl."

Oh, here we go again...

"Mai..." He ventures, but was cut off. She is definitely working herself up now.

"The amount of attention you give that girl is staggering! It's a wonder that Iroh doesn't have a complex like you, insisting that his grandfather favors his half-sister!"

"Mai...you know its not..."

"The poor boy has to go away with the Southern Raiders, because he's "under evaluation"," Mai states, with accompanying air quotes. "Since when do you evaluate a royal family member? But our daughter has to insist, doesn't she? By Agni, the state that our family is coming to! I don't even know anymore..."

Zuko cuts her off by enveloping her in a tight embrace and kissing her firmly. Her tense posture slackens to her usual state, and she leans into him, snuggling into his chest as much as she could in her heavy robes. He places his chin atop her head after giving her a light, quick peck on her grayed hair.

"Mai, the amount of attention you give Iroh more than adequately balances my so called 'neglect' of him."

"Hmmm..." She hums into his chest.

Smiling, he tilts her head back and places a kiss on the tip of her nose. "Besides, we're here."

Indeed, while they were busy bickering, the royal steamer is pulling into port and its loading ramp is being lowered. It groans as it lowers in an arc before coming to a rest on the snowy dock of the Southern Water Tribe capitol, which was built over Katara and Sokka's old village. Zuko smiles; this place is almost a second home for him.

Mai pulls away from Zuko to meet their welcoming party.

Ooruk, the Chief of the Water Tribe, is standing at the far edge of the ramp, surrounded by his most trusted ministers. He is dressed in the traditional wolf skin parka and polar bear-lizard leather trousers with a heavy, imported moose-lion robe thrown around his shoulders.

But the most impressive thing that makes Ooruk who he is are his actions.

He is all smiles and waves, grinning wildly even as he bounds up the ramp to pull Mai into a hug, before starting to flirt shamelessly with her. It is his way of shyly asking about Midori and Iroh's welfare.

Zuko smiles. Ooruk reminds him very much of his father, Sokka, who passed away only last year, a fact that both Ooruk and Zuko are still getting used to.

Sokka was Zuko's best friend.

"And how are we, on this beautiful southern night?" Ooruk exclaims, looking around to check whether it is indeed beautiful, before turning to Zuko, his smile getting even more mischievous.

Mai makes a sound that Zuko strongly suspected was a snort. Not that he would ever point that out to her. He values his health far too dearly.

"How is the best Firelord in all history doing today? Had a good trip here? Slept well, did you? Your age not bogging you down, eh?" He winks exaggeratedly at Mai and continues in a stage whisper directed at her. "You know that I'm available if this one croaks anytime soon, don't you?"

Mai is giggling openly now, and Zuko is fighting to hide his smile, trying and failing to frown instead.

Gathering her breath, Mai swats Ooruk on his shoulder, albeit playfully.

"Yes, yes, Ooruk, I know. Now, you'd better lead my husband to his granddaughter or he might turn violent! The poor man was trying to jump off the damn ship and swim here, since from about a mile away!"

Ooruk throws his head back and laughs, the booming sound echoing in the nighttime silence. After a few minutes he composes himself enough to reply.

"I'm sorry, Lady Mai, it's just been too long! You don't visit as much as you should!" He pouts. "Temari has been on tenterhooks since she heard that you were coming!" At this, his face sours.

"Something wrong, Ooruk?" Zuko is instantly on edge.

"Wrong?" For a moment, Ooruk seems confused and indecisive, but that moment passes and he smiles softly. "Nothing's wrong..." he pauses, seemingly considering something. "...at least, I don't think so. Tui, I hope not!"

"But...something's bothering you? Something about Temari?"

"It's just that she's been throwing herself into her work recently. She's still not attending any council meetings. It all started after the Kyoshi Island fiasco...Man, it's been a looong five months."

Ooruk seems to deflate, his spine bending under the sheer pressure of his worries. He motions for Zuko to walk beside him and for Mai to follow. His ministers follow at a safe distance, while the honor guards spread out in a star formation around them.

"It's just that I feel she's blocking me out...ever since mother..."

Zuko sighs, pulling down his hood so that he could face Ooruk. He ignores the biting wind as it plays with free strands of his gray hair.

"What happened to Suki was a tragedy. No one could have expected that the Kyoshi natives would react like that, and I mean NO ONE. Not me, not you, and not even Temari. So don't blame yourself."

Ooruk scoffs, shaking his head, his shaggy warriors' wolftail whipping away the tiny snowflakes that settled on it.

"That's exactly it! I don't; I don't blame anybody except them, especially not Temari! But still, she feels the need to..."

Zuko sighs again, a drawn-out one this time. In this moment, he feels all of his 85 years on him.

"Ooruk, she burned Kyoshi Island to the ground...She's bound to feel something..."

"She thinks she's turning into your sister." Ooruk's voice is hard, as if he is finally facing something that he was putting off for a long time.

Zuko is dumbfounded, shock getting the better of him for a moment. "Temari...turn into Azula?" He intones slowly, his scratchy voice disappearing with the winds, that are howling and writhing like the flames above.

"That's what she thinks."

"But that's impossible...she leveled Kyoshi Island _because_ she loved her grandmother. Azula didn't love anyone."

"That's what I keep telling her." Ooruk sighs. "Would you talk to her? She looks up to you..." He peters off, apparently uncomfortable.

Zuko puts an arm around Ooruk's shoulders and smiles reassuringly. "Of course I will. Lead the way."

*-~...~-*

Meelo sighs, today did not look good for the Avatar, nuh uh... Not at all. His mother is absolutely furious about the riot yesterday at Omashu Park. She stands not far from him, her hands clenched tightly on the railing as she mutters under her breath, glaring at the passing Kingfisher-gulls. She would be fuming by now if she was a firebender. Idly, he muses at how similar his mother is to his grandmother at times.

Meelo sighs again and leans more of his weight onto the iron railings of the ferry-barge he takes every morning to get to Air Temple Island...one of the travails of being an airbender living in the city.

_But where else would I live, if not with my mother?_ Meelo muses as he stares at the body of choppy blue water that seems to slide by. _Surely not with Tenzin? He's moved on, married again and has his own family. He has other worries now._

Meelo turns and presses his back into the metal railing, pulling his glider-staff closer to his chest, his burnt orange robes crinkling. He stares at the approaching island, with its multi-layered pagodas and statues and training terraces. It's supposed to feel like coming home, but it only feels like going away. He misses the city, misses his friends, misses pro-bending (a sport which both he and his mother have an avid appreciation of, since his grandmother had started the whole shebang) and now he is going to be stuck here, in this creaking metal ship, as it made for _yet_ _another _five months bored out of his mind and full of envy at Jinora and Ikiki for having a father.

A father that left him and his mother.

And as long as it seemed to him, they arrived.

Meelo cringes as his mother leaps off the rails and onto the small wooden jetty. Even with her full resume, he still fears that she might break her neck pulling off these stunts. _She_ _wasn't getting any younger._

Sighing at her raised eyebrow, he jumps off the railing and bends himself a small gust of wind, aiming himself to land beside her.

Without a word, she starts walking up the stone staircase that leads to the entrance gates. Meelo elects to follow.

In the ensuing silence he observes his mother. Her once raven hair is now infused with the slightest hues of gray, and he is sure that the stress is getting to her, if the deep purple bruises under her eyes are any indication.

But she holds herself as she always has, filled to the brim with authority, her body in top shape and her armor as clean as the day she fashioned it. Even the spools of metal wire on her back are spotless and greased. Everything screams that she is ready for action, whenever or wherever that may be.

But he still worries.

Lin Beifong has a habit of throwing caution into the wind.

She turns around when she reaches the tall, ornate steel double gates that frame the entrance to the temple; her face scrunches up in anger and the tip of her nose wrinkles ever so slightly. Her expression softens as her gaze falls on him, climbing hurriedly up the steps behind her, panting slightly.

Softly, she puts her palm on his head, ruffling his short hair fondly, even though he is almost a head taller than her.

When she speaks next, even Meelo can see that she is trying to control her voice, at least for her son. And despite his worries, Meelo smiles. He might not have a father anymore, but he has the best mother anybody could ask for.

"Meelo, I'm sure you have to get ready for your daily forms, why don't you go find Jinora and start warming up?

He chuckles, and a small smile graces his mother's lips.

"Mom, I'm seventeen, not seven! Jinora's almost fifteen! She doesn't need me to do everything with her."

His mother huffs and gives him a mock slap on the back of his head.

"Hmph...but she won't shut up about you, will she? It's always Meelo this, or Meelo that!"

She is moving her hands around animatedly now, making quacking gestures. Meelo laughs.

"Mom! She's my step-sister...she's supposed to act like that." He utters the latter almost silently, though his mother still hears him.

She stands looking at him for a moment, her green eyes radiating warmth, then pulls him into a tight hug.

"Yes, I know, Meelo; I was just pulling your leg," she steps back and grips his shoulders tightly. "I'm so proud of you, Meelo. My little boy is on his way to becoming an airbending master!"

"Mom!"

She chuckles.

"Yes, yes, I know. You want to get rid of your old mom and go babble with Jinora don't you...? I'm so hurt!"

She is dry sobbing into her hand, and Meelo is used to his mom making fun of him. It isn't anything new.

"Mom!"

His mother is snickering into her hand now, eyes crinkled with mirth complimenting her wide grin. Meelo smiles; at least she is happy now.

Whispering "Be safe son", she plants a kiss on his forehead. Then, without another word, she turns around and walks toward Tenzin's house. The shiny metal of her armor glints in the pale dawn light.

Meelo sighs, his breath leaving in tendrils of wispy white vapor that dissolves into the air almost instantaneously. His green-flecked grey eyes stare at the receding figure of his mother. He worries about her. Most of the time that he ever sees her (most of which was at home), she is tense. filled with an angry frustration that would boil under the surface. He suspects that it is because of the Equalist movement.

He sighs again. He doesn't think that anybody could _not _hate that bunch of fascist hypocrites.

Turning his head to the horizon, Meelo lets himself get enveloped in the dawn sun. Breathing in deeply, he opens his eyes.

Wait! Is that someone_ running on the rooftops?_

* * *

**_And so it begins. Next chapter is almost done. lets try to reach 15 reviews before I post it. Remember, I wont be able to know what I'm doing wrong (or right) If nobody reviews. If you liked this chapter, review. If you didn't still leave a review. _**

**_Next chapter will be posted when I reach at least 15 reviews.  
_**

_**Read and Review.**  
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